He'd shuffled the stocking down past her knee, just smoothed his palm through the sweet hollow behind it and on, over her calf, pushing the soft silk before it-when the ankle he was supporting lifted from his hand.
Her slender leg raised fractionally, encouragingly, presenting itself for his attentions. He looked up-into languorous blue eyes.
Eyes hazed with desire.
His gaze dropped to her lips, then to her breasts; he noted her shallow breathing, could sense anticipation rising like perfume around them. His gaze lowered further, to the sleek, slender form tantalizingly arrayed in translucent silks. To the hips and thighs that had cradled him a short time before.
Irresistibly, his eyes were drawn to the golden triangle of curls imperfectly concealed by the silks.
She shifted; her thighs parted-
He jerked upright, unable to breathe. Dazed, mentally lost, he went to step back-
Her eyes locked on his. Held him captured, mind-blank, paralyzed, while she fluidly rolled up to her knees, up on the bed before him. Smiling into his eyes, she shuffled closer and laid her hands, palms flat, on the planes of his upper chest.
And purred, "My turn now."
Every muscle in his body locked. His mind reeled as he stared into her eyes, saw flagrant sensuality shimmering in the blue.
Then she looked at her hands. Ran them down his body. Slowly. Following every inch with her eyes.
She stopped when she reached his hips-when his mouth was dry and his heart thundering. Raising her hands, she set them to his shoulders, and fell to tracing every muscle band, each curve of shoulder and rib. Every inch of his skin.
He could only breathe enough to exist, not resist. He closed his eyes as her hands wandered, only to find sensation abruptly heightened. Small hands, delicate caresses. Her touch possessed a power that held him in thrall. He'd never been prized like this, never had a woman pander to his senses-and hers-in such a way.
He was powerless. Her captive.
Regardless of any will he might once have possessed.
Amanda knew it, and gloried. Delighted in the discovery that her lion loved to be stroked. He'd spent what had seemed like hours stroking her; she'd enjoyed his every touch, reveled in his attentions. Now it was her turn to return the pleasure, and reap the consequent reward.
Eager, she explored, searching for those areas on his large body that responded most avidly to her touch. Then she lavished attention on them, brazenly brought her mouth into play, licking, lightly sucking, boldly grazing one hard nipple with her teeth.
He shook, not with weakness but strength, with the sheer power of the reaction he held back-the reaction she evoked. The knowledge thrilled her, sent excitement and heat arcing through her.
The memory of what could be drove her on.
Drove her to close one hand about the rigid length jutting so provocatively against her stomach. Close her fingers and stroke-feel his control quake. With her other hand she drew his head down to hers and kissed him ardently. Took him into her mouth, drew him in, drove him wild with her tongue-and her touch.
A powerful combination. Within minutes, they were both aflame, both burning with the same need, the same aching yeanling. The oneness closed in-the same mutually compulsive state they'd experienced earlier; she recognized it, opened her heart and wildly embraced it.
One desire drove them. As one, they moved to assuage it.
When she urged him to join her on the bed, he took her down to the silk sheets, easing her body beneath his, one large hand cradling her bottom.
She tilted her hips, encouraging, inviting-he joined with her in one slow, gliding thrust. Arching beneath him, she marveled at the ease with which he sank in, with which she received him, even though she still felt every inch, still felt her body open and give way, then ease around him.
After that, she felt nothing but the warmth, the heat, the building urgency. The beat of their hearts rising in a crescendo, sweeping them on. Spiralling passion swirled around them, then tightened, degree by degree, notch by notch, until they were breathless and gasping.
Until she writhed beneath him, holding him to her in mindless entreaty as their bodies merged. Again and again.
Until he reared back and drove her on, over the precipice and into blind glory. And still it wasn't enough.
She clung, nails sinking into his arms, her body all his, as his was hers.
Until he was there, too, lost in the wonder of completeness-the unfathomable glory, the incredible joy of two souls touching. Merging.
Being one.